My second poetry collection, I Was the Jukebox, won the 2009 Barnard Women Poets Prize (selected by Joy Harjo) and will be launched into the world on April 5, 2010 by W. W. Norton.
On Sunday I met up with a fellow poet to go to a reading at the Writer's Center. My friend has published two books--first with a small independent press, second with a larger regional publishing house--and her third book will be published, in both hardback and softcover, with a major university press this spring. She's also had the behind-the-scenes years of interning with a major press and editing author manuscripts, not to mention an accomplished teaching career. The talk turned to setting up one's own readings and my friend, despite all her experience, shook her head.
"I feel like an amateur," she said. "I feel like I'm playing catch-up."
The prospect of setting up readings takes the euphoria of publishing a book and turns it on its head. Maybe because you thought this would be the press's job. Maybe because you get stage fright. Maybe because you've moved to a new city, far from your literary community. Maybe because the "Sorry, no" of a bookstore's events coordinator feels so much more personal than the generic rejection slip from a first-book contest. Maybe because you can't get time off to travel. Maybe because you can't bear the thought of driving 300 miles, only to read to an empty room.
You're not alone.
I'm no book-tour guru. My knowledge is based as much on my mistakes as my successes. But I've done about three dozen events since the publication of Theories of Falling, and so far I've lined up a dozen events between now and July in support of my second collection. What follows is a list of ten things (in no particular strategic order) that I've learned from my own experience, as well as from counseling those who come through DC in search of reading venues.
1) Let go of the idea of a "book tour." The term "book tour" is based on a notion, largely theoretical in today's market, where a publisher sponsors an author's series of visits to major cities--New York, Washington, Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles. In other words, big travel between each destination, in order to hit media markets that do not overlap. For a lot of us that's not a realistic budgetary option.* Yet when we arrange a reading on our own dime, our stubborn attachment to the idea of a "book tour" makes us think we should be clustering other readings in the area. So about twice a month I get requests along the lines of "I'm already reading at X; where else can I get a gig while I'm in Washington?"
No curator of a reading series, who is already scrounging to get every body in the door, wants to hear that you're determined to arrange other events in the same town, in the same week. (I know of some series that go so far as to contractually forbid it.) Yes, you might snag a few additional listeners, but overall you're just going to split your audience. If you've got an idea for a corollary event that is clearly designed for an alternate readership--a daytime visit to an elementary school, for example--that's one thing. But otherwise, give yourself a one-hour driving radius before arranging another event; anything within that looks like double-booking.
*One option for an old-school book tour: pairing up with a friend who writes in the same genre, and who also has a book recently published, and planning a road trip where three-hour stretches between gigs are the norm. It's not impossible--Shanna Compton and Jen Knox, of Bloof Books, have staged some very successful readings using this model.
2) Embrace the idea of a "book stop." Treat any family trip or work trip as an opportunity to schedule a tandem bookstore reading. If you're already committed to the airfare, an extra night's hotel on your own dime is a good investment. New Pages has a great database of independent bookstores, organized by state: you can find it here. Take a look at the event calendars for these places to get a feel for timeslots when they typically host authors, and adapt your query accordingly. Perverse as it sounds, if you specify dates based on travel independent of the reading (and with a decent lead time), it encourages bookstore commitment, rather than inhibiting it.
3) Reach out to friends, sure. But forgive them when they do not help you. We're writers. We make friends with other writers--who teach at universities, who work in bookstores, who host reading series. It's natural, when someone with such a connection expresses excitement for your book, to secretly hope that they'll step up with an invitation to read. But what feels like a singular event to you is one snowflake in the annual blizzard of publishing; and if one tried to accommodate every friend with a new book out, she'd be inviting that blizzard to avalanche on her doorstep.
There's nothing wrong with making a shortlist of ten friends who might be able to help with a reading, and querying them. That said, strike the balance between avoiding false artificiality (if you know someone by first name, address by first name) and professionalism (if someone teaches at a college, include the bio info needed to be your advocate--don't assume she can summarize on your behalf). Once you send letters off, forget them. One positive response is worth it; nine awkward silences, drowning out what used to be good friendships, are not. Don't guilt trip, fish, or nag. Let it go.
4) If you are a poet hoping to read in a series with an open mic, take part in the open mic at earlier readings. It's not always possible, I know, but make it happen if you can. It shows respect to the series regulars, who will remember when you come back around. Winning a group over with a good open mic set makes the difference between whether people really listen to you when you're the featured reader, or whether they're just fidgeting as they wait to read their own poems. It also means you can query the series host in person, which is so much more effective than an email.
5) When you have the reading where no one shows up, it doesn't mean you're a bad writer. I once attended a reading by Michael Collier (University of Maryland professor, author of multiple books, and director for the Bread Loaf Writing Conference) where there were six people in the room. Six. In that count of six I include Michael, the host, and two of their dinner guests. The weather was fine, and the location was central enough; it was just bad luck. Michael gave a great reading anyway. But if it can happen to him, it can--and will--happen to anyone. And when it does, just remember: as bad as you feel, the host of the reading feels worse. Be gentle.
6) Be prepared to be your own cashbox. In scenarios where you are selling your own stock, rather than working though a bookstore, there's nothing more agonizing than having a book priced at $12 and having the very first person walk up and hand you a twenty-dollar bill. Do you cut your price to $10 for the sake of easy change, knowing that every other person in line will wonder why they can't get the same deal? Or do you buy a drink you didn't want, just to break your own twenty? I try to always have $50 in ones and fives, whenever I give a reading.
7) If you agree to a reading pitched toward a particularly young or elderly audience, bring the work of famous writers in addition to your own. It's not that "the customer is always right," per se, but the customer should always be comfortable. It was very clear to me, within minutes of showing up at the Georgetown Senior Citizen Center, that my contemporary and somewhat oblique poems needed the anchor of the familiar. I was really sorry I didn't have a little Frost and Dickinson to throw into the mix.
"I like that Maya Angelou," one woman said thoughtfully, as she clasped her hands over her afghan. "Except that sometimes her work is a little too, you know, out there."
8) Don't let the distance traveled trump your timing. When you're reading in a line-up of three or four readers, and you've travelled the farthest to get there, it's natural to want to read a little longer. What harm is an extra five minutes? You're making it worth your while, right?
Wrong. You're wearing out the audience's patience (particularly since you're probably the out-of-towner, with the least friends in the room). Five minutes is an eternity in the mind of someone waiting to use the bathroom or get a drink. Think of it this way: writing careers have been made in the space of YouTube clips that run for less than five minutes. Always, always, leave them wanting more.
9) Use your c.v. to brainstorm reading venues. Too often we fixate on venues and series not because we have any organic connection to them, but because it is a brand name. There's nothing wrong with aiming high; in 2008 USA Today published a list of "destination bookstores" that still haunts me as a cosmic to-do list. Yet there's so many other options. Were three short stories from your collection published in a particular literary journal? If you're going to the annual AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) conference, contact them to see if they're having an offsite reading that you can jump in on.
What about an event sponsored by your alumni association? A special interest group related to your book's landscape or topic? Query, emphasizing that you're not looking to charge a speaker's fee--which, outside the literary world, is an unusual strategic advantage. You've got nothing to lose.
10) Don't give someone an unsolicited copy of your book just because you want to read for them. I know the temptation--it's not a bribe so much as the dream that someone will turn to page one, be unable to put the book down, and the next thing you know, you'll have a reading gig. But if you want to familiarize people with your work, you can either direct them to online publications, or make a PDF sample of 5-10 pages. If you want people to regard your book as an object of value then you have to regard it as such. Which means that you don't treat your book as a business card.
All of this is a way of saying that readings--as frustrating as they can be to set up, and execute, and execute well--are a potent force. They sell books. They make friends. They lead to more readings. I've had such precious, vivid experiences thanks to literary events over the past three years, often in settings I'd have never gotten to otherwise.
I hope this annotated list makes the world of setting up readings a little less scary. Yes, you have to get your hands dirty, but it's worth it. The biggest thing people seem to fear is hearing "No," but that's such a nonissue. Everyone hears "No," even the big shots, and no one who is saying "No" resents the person asking. It's a lot like sending your work off to literary journals--this is the way the world works. Be polite, be patient, be persistent. The rest will follow. (How patient? How persistent? Put it this way: It took three in-person visits to Politics & Prose, starting in January 2010, and each time with a follow-up email, before they would confirm a reading for Sunday, May 2--the book's hometown launch.)
If you're curious about readings I have lined up in the coming months, you can watch for details here. Please leave your thoughts, your reading phobias, and your own tips in the comments below. And thanks for following through on such a long, winding Countdown post!
Sandra, thank you for this amazing list of lessons. I've done book readings and appeared at open mic's, and it never occurred to me to approach them from such a thoughtful and professional angle. This is excellent information. Again---I'm really impressed with the spirit in which you're sharing your knowledge with us!
Sandra, thank you for this amazing list of lessons. I've done book readings and appeared at open mic's, and it never occurred to me to approach them from such a thoughtful and professional angle. This is excellent information. Again---I'm really impressed with the spirit in which you're sharing your knowledge with us!